


Five Times Nines Got Gavin Coffee (and One Time Gavin Returned the Favor)

by Nock_and_Bolt



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Conflict Resolution, Detectives, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Feels, Friendship, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed Not Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed Swears, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gavin Reed-centric, Gen, Good Friend Tina Chen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Intense, Light-Hearted, Machine Upgraded Connor | RK900, Male Bonding, Male Friendship, Memes, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Upgraded Connor | RK900, Partnership, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Police, Possessive Upgraded Connor | RK900, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Canon, Sarcasm, Soft Gavin Reed, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Swearing, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nock_and_Bolt/pseuds/Nock_and_Bolt
Summary: The broad strokes of a budding friendship painted in coffee-stained snippets.Otherwise known as a 5 + 1 dual character study piece that takes Gavin and Nines as we see them in the game and tracks their character development until they're more like the fanon version of themselves: a frankly iconic buddy-cop duo. (Could be seen as pre-slash or just a really good friendship)
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Comments: 37
Kudos: 93





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuclearpanda31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearpanda31/gifts).



The glass door of Fowler’s office banged shut with such force that some might have feared it would shatter.

The RK900, however, had scanned its structural integrity mid-swing and determined that it was in no real danger of breaking, and so let it slam home. It deduced that the short, angry man who had shoved it wide would be marginally placated by the thrumming whomps of the stressed glass. 

> REED, GAVIN
> 
> Born: 10/7/2002 // Police Detective
> 
> Criminal Record: Expunged
> 
> > See file for more details

The RK900’s new partner. One evidently prone to angry outbursts, if the man’s reaction to his new assignment was anything to go by. 

Treading into the break room after the irate human, the android found its partner spitting his frustration at anyone who would listen, namely a pair of officers—Tina Chen and Chris Miller, his facial scans supplied—standing at a small circular table.

“—can’t phcking believe this! Fowler _knows_ how much I hate those plastic pricks. I swear, this is all because of that damned pet of Anderson’s. So the guy gets an android partner and becomes slightly less of a washed-up disaster, _wonderful_. That doesn’t mean Fowler’s gotta start giving them out like candy! 'More effective in human-android pairs,' my _ass_. Soon enough they’ll be replacing us entirely with those plastic fucks. Well, I’m not going to be run out of my job by a phcking overgrown soda can in a neck brace. I--”

Officer Miller had been making increasingly less and less subtle bids to get the detective to notice said overgrown soda can standing behind him. Only now—after a full 11.27 seconds, how unflattering of the detective’s observational abilities—did these prompts apparently get through, and the man whirled around.

A blaze of stormy grey eyes met cool silver and a sneer unfurled across Reed’s face, completely unapologetic for his less than professional conduct. “Already following me around like stink on shit, I see. Phck, this is going to be the worst. Tina, just kill me now.”

The Chinese woman in question merely rolled her eyes, and the RK900 wondered briefly if the detective noticed that he had indirectly referred to himself as excrement in that little analogy, but subsequently discarded the notion. Pointing this out to the man would not likely be received very well.

> > ESTABLISH GOOD RELATIONS WITH DETECTIVE REED

“I understand that you find working with an android undesirable. I can assure you that I have no intention of stealing your job and will not hinder your casework in any way. In fact, I possess great utility and will likely improve both the efficiency and success of future investigations--”

“Hey! I’m pretty phcking effective on my _own_ , thank you very much, you plastic assho--”

“Additionally, I am faster, stronger, and more resilient than my predecessor the RK800, and equipped with the latest technologies.”

The detective fumed at being spoken over and appeared to be gearing up to go on another rant, but the mention of the RK800 set off an almost visible lightbulb of epiphany. “More resilient, huh?” Tone thoughtful, with a touch of sour-tasting spite. “What about more _obedient_?” 

There was a pause, and then officer Chen snorted a laugh from her position, evidently understanding where the irate man was going. “Shit, Gavin, you’re not still upset about Connor refusing to get you that coffee, are you?” 

“Just need to show these damned things their place, Tina. Look at this thing, not even two seconds in the precinct and it’s going on and on about how phcking wonderful it is.” 

The man’s chest swelled. “But this one is assigned to me, so there won’t be any of that ‘I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson’ bull.” With a roguish smile and a wink sent Tina’s way, he delivered his first order to the RK900.

“Bring me a coffee, dipshit.” 

Prone to anger, dismissive of decorum, and apparently petty, too, the android added this latest trait to the rapidly expanding mental profile of its new partner. 

> > ESTABLISH GOOD RELATIONS WITH DETECTIVE REED
> 
> >>> BRING DETECTIVE REED A COFFEE

Truthfully, conducting such a menial task made no difference to the RK900; if obeying the man’s orders gave him some sense of ego protection, perhaps he would feel less threatened in this partnership and decrease his hostility toward the RK900. After all, interpersonal conflict was hardly conducive to a productive work environment.

The android inclined its head and turned towards the coffee maker, a slightly disbelieving yet delighted bark of laughter bouncing off its white-jacketed back.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” Gavin chortled, as the RK900 brought the steaming cup of liquid to him.

When the RK900 tried to hand the coffee over, however, the man knocked its arm away. The detective seemed to derive an inordinate amount of pleasure from the small wrinkle of confusion between the android’s eyebrows. The sneer was back in full force.

“I don’t want your damned coffee.”

The RK900 could tell working with Detective Reed was going to be a challenge. This man was completely illogical.

“Very well, detective, you are certainly entitled to your own mercurial attitude.” Turning smartly to the pair at the small circular table, the android proffered the freshly made brew in a light toast. “Would either of you fine officers like to have this instead? It would be remiss of me to waste DPD resources and as you can see, no one has drunk out of it yet.” 

Tina Chen was too busy smothering a laugh into her hand to answer, lightly waving the android off with her other one. Officer Miller, however, simply shrugged and reached over. “What the hell, it’ll only be my second cup of the day.” 

The RK900 executed the social program function polite_smile_exe along with a slight head dip to simulate gratitude. When it turned back, it was met with 5’9” of furious Caucasian mere inches away. At 6’1”, the RK900 had to tilt its head down several degrees to meet the human’s spitfire glare.

“Did I say you could phcking do that, you walking refrigerator?” 

“Oh, lighten up, will you, Reed?” Chris paused in nursing his fresh cup of coffee to throw in. The newly assigned partners, however, both ignored the man, locked in a toe to toe stare-down.

“I’m sorry,” the RK900 intoned flatly, “next time you will have to be more specific in issuing your directives.”

> > ESTABLISH GOOD RELATIONS WITH DETECTIVE REED

The objective was blinking hazily across the RK900’s visual HUD, however, the android had since extrapolated that it would be necessary to first gain the man’s respect before any ‘good relations’ could be established, and it was clear that a completely passive approach was unlikely to accomplish that. 

“Yeah?” the detective growled, fisting his hands in the RK900’s jacket. It was somewhat less than effective if he had hoped to drag the android down to his level, as it would take a being of much greater strength to be able to do that to the military-grade RK900. “Well, you can bet your metal ass they will be.” The man pushed the other roughly. The RK900 didn't react to the shove for 1.13 seconds, remaining unmoved to make a point, before taking an obliging step back.

Gavin scoffed, and with a muttered “Done with this shit,” stormed from the breakroom. He yelled over his shoulder.

“And _don’t_ follow me! I don’t want to see your ugly mug for at _least_ the next eight hours! How’s that for a 'specific directive,' you dumbfuck piece of scrap metal?”

The RK900 turned to the two humans left in the break room. “He does realize that I have been assigned the terminal adjacent to his, doesn’t he?” 

> CONFLICTING ORDERS, SELECTING PRIORITY...

Officer Miller buried his face in his hands, and the RK900 left the room, heading towards its new workspace. 

“Well,” the African American officer said, dragging his hands down his face, “this is certainly going to be interesting.” 

A string of expletives drifted into the room as Gavin noticed the RK900 very much _not_ staying out of his sight.

Tina snickered. “More like some fucking grade A level entertainment.”


	2. Software Instability

It was nearing the end of a long day at the Detroit Police Department, seemingly longer than usual. 

This was undoubtedly due to the fact that one Detective Gavin Reed had been stuck doing digital paperwork for the duration of the workday.

It didn’t take CyberLife’s most advanced prototype to deduce that Gavin did not like paperwork. Nor did he like being stuck behind a desk. In fact, he could barely sit still for an hour, much less the entire day. Additionally, he had loudly proclaimed on more than one occasion that he found the routine forms and other variations of “bureaucratic bullshit” to be “the most spectacular headache this side of Plastic Wonder Boys 1 and 2.”

The RK900 had once voiced its suspicions that the detective may have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. 

This had not gone over well.

The android had eventually backed off on this supposition. 

Now, however, it wished it had pursued the matter further. While the detective’s restlessness and irritability were immaterial to the android, it had logged a marked decrease in the surrounding officers’ productivity each time the man distracted them with his fidgeting, pacing, and snappish remarks.

Detective Reed had been taking his anger out on the RK900 with a particular vengeance today. An avenue of instant gratification for the man seemed to be ordering his partner to do any number of menial tasks, and this tended to increase the worse of a mood the detective was in. 

Every time the RK900 thought that they had moved past the man’s original hostility and actually began functioning well together as a unit, the detective would revert back to a state of extreme bellicosity. It was baffling the RK900’s processors and cast doubt on the prospect of ever accomplishing that original objective to “ESTABLISH GOOD RELATIONS WITH DETECTIVE REED.” 

Of course, whenever the man returned to his painfully brash demeanor, this was always accompanied by a reassertion of his “superiority” via the making of ridiculous demands of his android partner. Said demands ranged anywhere from making the android return a pencil he’d flung across the room to calling the android over from the other end of the DPD to hand the man an object resting inches away from him on his desk. 

Making the RK900 get him coffee, however, had become a staple, and was indeed probably the man’s favorite command to issue. At least the human actually drank what the android brought to him now, though occasionally he would refuse like the very first time they met just to make a point.

“Yo, Tupperware, get me a coffee.”

Ah, and there it was again. The detective was apparently determined not to allow the RK900 to work uninterrupted for a span longer than 20 minutes at a time. 

The RK900 turned to face the man beside it. Short brown hair stuck up in all directions from hands being carded through it too many times, and several days worth of stubble littered his face. 

“Detective, that would be your seventh cup in almost as many hours. You are already at approximately twice the 400 milligrams of caffeine per day that is safe for adults to drink. I would _strongly advise_ you to reconsider this course of action.”

Upon further reflection, chronic overconsumption of caffeine could also be a contributing factor to the detective’s irascible and inattentive behavior.

“Did I _ask_ for your phcking opinion? Now go on, get a move on!”

> > BRING DETECTIVE REED A COFFEE

There was an odd, burning fizz in the RK900’s internal wiring. I̭͘t ͕͝d̨͖͈͎͆͒̃̎i͚͔̮̥̍̈́͌̉d̹͋ṅ͓̜̏'̡̧̓͘t̢̒ ̳̟̎͂ ~~w̫͎̫͌̾̕a̢̲͕̬͒̍͞n̻̭̙̮͑̋̃͠t̻̠̒̍~~ ̛̝͎̫̒͑͝ͅt̠̼́͛ơ͖̺͇̱͛͑̂.̺͕͍̒̀͊ͅ 

> > BRING DETECTIVE REED A COFFEE

Slowly, the android rose from the chair at its terminal and took quiet, deliberate steps over to the break room that was now far too familiar. 

The RK900’s initial assessment had been, unfortunately, accurate. Working with Detective Reed was a challenge. More than a challenge--it was downright problematic. It had been _months_ , and the man continued to go out of his way to antagonize his new partner at the slightest sign of relational progress.

 _One step forward, two steps back._ A human aphorism had never been so clearly understood by the android.

This was ridiculous. There was an entire precinct full of emotionally stable, functioning officers and detectives and other personnel in the DPD, and yet the RK900 was assigned to be the partner of the single human being apparently allergic to healthy work relationships (or any other kind of relationship, for that matter). 

Hank Anderson, who according to his disciplinary file was not exactly the most well-adjusted individual himself, had even approached the detective about his spasmodically aggressively bigoted attitude towards his own partner. (The RK900 suspected this was at Connor’s behest but had no physical proof.) At any rate, that conversation had also not gone very well, and the week following it was filled with _more_ of said behavior, this time accompanied by pointed looks across the station to the DPD’s first human-android investigative duo.

The RK900 hovered in front of the coffee maker. Detective Reed, by all accounts, should not be having any more caffeine. It would bode ill for both his health and the entire department’s productivity.

More than that, why should the man’s splenetic behavior be rewarded with compliance?

Arm stretched out, paused in mid-air.

> > BRING DETECTIVE REED A COFFEE

͉̦̱̮̿̍̔͗̕͜ ̧̟͉̒͛̂ ̡̌ ̖̙̪̪̉̐̕ ̣̮̏̉̂ͅ ͎̬̩̎͑̕ ̪͇͗͒̽ͅ ͎ ̗͖͚̦͐̐̎̋ ̝͉̟͒ ̘̱̭̽̒̇͜͝ ̥̇̾͢ ̏͐͟ͅ ͎̼̔͊ ̡̬̼̍͊̿ ̬̊ ̤̰̤̽͐̊ ̪̳̇̚ ̗̰̓̋̾͢ ̳̲̥̓́̃̎͜ ̼͔́̕ ̥͊ ̮̫̩̒͋̍̕͜ ̮̊ ͓̦̺͍̍̑͊͟͝͝ ̼̙͐̌͜͝ ̗̐ ̥̑̐͐͋͜͢͢ ̼̝̮͊͋̄ ̪̯̔͆͘ͅ ̛̻̘̹̻̀̆̋ ̱͍͐̃͒͜ ̨̥̙͐̉͐ ̼̞̱̊̅̆ ̞͉̑͞ ̨̭̫̼̟̾̉͆͋ ͈͌ ͖̲͖̏̉̒̕͢ ̣̏ ̛̘̺̫̝̋̍ ͇͖̬͍̍̈͆͐ ̡̡̲͚̝̑̀̋̉̌ ̢̪̲̂͂̂͜ ̺̈́

Well. Decaffeinated coffee was still coffee, wasn’t it?

> As far as the investigative android was concerned, it was well within its parameters to make this executive decision. It was simply finding the optimal course of action for all parties involved. 

The RK900 wove back through the DPD past other officers and around terminals, setting the beverage down at the detective’s desk. The nearby trash bin was overflowing with the remains of identical paper cups. Gavin merely grunted in acknowledgment, gaze fixed on the screen in front of him.

Spinning on its heel and returning to its work station, the RK900 kept a surreptitious eye on the detective’s first couple sips. He appeared too preoccupied to notice the liquid’s lack of its usual level of caffeine. 

Satisfied with the state of things, the android returned to its own work.

.

.

.

Or, at least, it tried to. 

.

.

.

It was difficult to concentrate when the detective might at any moment distract it from its work anyways.

.

.

.

Half an hour later, the RK900 glanced at the detective who was being uncharacteristically quiet and _not_ obnoxious.

Said detective was leaning back in his chair, hands knit behind his head with—was...was that a _smile_ on the man’s face? Sure it was faint, but—a _smile?_ On detective perpetually-petulant-and-otherwise-ill-tempered-Reed’s face?

The RK900 sniffed. The man was almost certainly not working on what he was supposed to be working on. 

Nuisance to the DPD, nuisance of a partner, nuisance to all things efficient and productive and well organized and properly managed—

The android had hacked into the man’s terminal almost without conscious thought. The man was probably looking up pornography for all anyone knew—and during working hours, too—

Silver eyes blinked, processors grinding to a halt. 

Huh. 

Well.

The puzzle that was Gavin Reed continued to evolve before the android's optical units.

It was right about the detective being off task, of course. It just hadn’t anticipated...this.

Detective Reed was...writing a letter to Wayne County Juvenile Detention Facility? A quick scan showed regular correspondence to various young inmates dating back several years. Perhaps the entire duration of the detective’s time on the force. What—

Oh. That seemed personal. Backing out rapidly, the RK900 exited its hack of the detective’s monitor. 

_Why should the RK900 feel like it was intruding? The detective was clearly off task and it should be reported to his superiors._

_In fact, the RK900 was going to do just that._

…

Curious grey eyes slid back to the detective’s form. It really couldn’t recall the last time it had seen anything resembling positive affect on its partner’s face that wasn’t somehow also mean-spirited or scornful.

…

And the surrounding officers’ productivity _had_ increased since the detective had started working on the letter.

Maybe, the best thing to do for everyone involved would be to let him continue uninterrupted.

...

Yes.

Yes, that was the logical thing to do.

> 


	3. A Deviant Coffee Run

A lot could change in several months.

“Hey, Nines, coffee me.”

And a lot could stay the same.

One of the biggest changes, however, was most definitely the deviation of the RK900. 

In fact, it was undoubtedly the catalyst for most of the succeeding changes within the android and detective’s partnership. 

And in many ways, it had thrown the RK900 for a loop.

He wasn’t meant to deviate as the RK800 had been. The experience of more than just simple sensation and pre-programmed responses—of actual _feelings_ and _desires—_ had been almost overwhelming. 

Free will. 

Ambrosial and yet frightening in its own fashion. 

There were so many options, so many choices—how did humans _deal_ with the countless variables and uncertainty of life without specific objectives and reliable prioritization algorithms?

Strangely enough, it was Gavin who had helped to ground the freshly deviated android. 

Because while the newly expanded horizon of possibilities was almost paralyzing in its immensity, the RK900 _was_ certain of at least one decision that he wanted to make.

The first time after the RK900’s deviation that detective Reed demanded his customary cup of joe, it had been with particular glee— _and what an emotion_ _that_ _had been to experience—_ that the android had flatly refused the man.

Gavin had almost fallen out of his chair in shock. Incoherent outrage and spluttering had followed, face and neck turning the most lovely shade of puce.

 _This_ particular memory file had been duplicated and saved to the RK900’s hard drive. He had unashamedly reviewed it multiple times since that date, and it invariably brought a feeling of glowing warmth to his chassis.

The weeks after that turning point, however, had been some of the tensest of the duo’s to date. The detective had tried to maintain his sense of supremacy with a vicious sort of desperation, but the RK900 was no longer bound by his programming and had had quite enough of being pushed around by a man three-fourths his size. 

He still did his job, mind you, but he was no longer forced to comply with every petty little whim of the detective’s, and he let the man know _exactly_ what he wasn’t going to put up with.

Subsequently, hostilities between the two had increased for a time, and the DPD had become something of a nightmare for the other officers to work in. Shouting matches between the partners became a regular occurrence—though, to be frank, it was mostly one-sided on the part of Gavin. The RK900 didn’t raise his voice so much as lower it, pouring a noxious amount of venom into caustic repartees. 

Fowler had almost lost it completely with the pair of them—several times—and Connor had repeatedly entreated the other RK model to try to play nice with Gavin and avoid antagonizing the easily provoked detective. 

For his part, the RK900 had responded—quite reasonably, he thought—that while maybe all Connor had had to do to get the lieutenant to like him was play nice and kill him with kindness, Gavin Reed was the sort of man who required something closer to actual murder to even conceive of respecting an android with its own thoughts, emotions, and will. 

Considering how it eventually took a few near-death experiences and one particularly harrowing case involving a collapsing building forcing them to work together for this to happen, the RK900 liked to think that he’d basically been proven correct. 

After that case, something fundamental had shifted in their partnership. The antagonism was still present, of course, but there was somewhat of an understanding there, as well. 

Also, the detective had started calling him Nines.

Thank RA9 that this was the nickname that had stuck, for it was a far cry better than the spectrum of derogatory terms he’d been called by the detective. Now it was all pretty much anyone at the DPD referred to him as. It...made the RK900 feel like he was more than a model number, like a real person.

He liked it.

He’d also like it a lot more if it wasn’t currently being used to summon his coffee-providing services again. The RK900 turned to Gavin incredulously. Hadn’t they established Nines wasn’t going to do this sort of thing for the man anymore?

The detective, however, was deeply engrossed in the case file he was reviewing. Hm. Apparently he’d forgotten the last time that Nines had refused his ridiculous summons. _Old habits die hard, huh?_ Well, maybe the RK900 could get another entertaining memory file out of this rejection—

But wait. Inspiration sparked between synthetic synapses. This lapse in memory of the detective’s provided the RK900 with a most interesting opportunity. He would be remiss to let it go to waste.

Feeling the curious eyes of half of the DPD on his back, Nines rose calmly from his chair and made his way across the precinct. 

“Did...did Nines just, like, revert to his old programming or something?” audio processors picked up officer Person’s confused whisper to Wilson. The RK900 caught the man’s shrug out of the corner of his optical unit before he turned into the break room.

For the first out of a countless number of previous coffee fetching trips, the android was perfectly content as he prepared the concoction. 

At this point, Tina and Chris had given up all pretense of doing work to crane their necks at the android returning to his partner’s desk. The RK900 stayed beside the detective as the man absentmindedly picked up the cup and took a hefty swig of the beverage.

It was at this moment that Nines brightly informed him, “I made it as dark and bitter as your soul, detective.”

Liquid sprayed over Gavin’s terminal in the most impressive misting and assortment of droplets. 

“The phck,” he coughed out, “Is this just cream with a shit ton of sugar in it?” Suddenly his brain caught up with his ears and the man leaped from his seat and whirled around.

 _“Who the **FUCK** gave Nines access to memes?" _Detective Reed's voice cracked most magnificently over the expletive.

If anyone had tried to respond to the detective’s outraged inquiry (which no one had), their answer would have been drowned out by the poorly smothered guffaws and howling laughter of officer Miller and Tina Chen. Hearing this, Gavin rounded on the pair, betrayal in his eyes. Before the detective could accuse them or bemoan this most grievous breach of friendship, the RK900 stepped in smoothly.

“Oh, please, Gavin. I’m an android, not a child. I am perfectly capable of accessing the internet without someone else’s express approval, you know.” 

The cultured tones reminding him of the primary offender in this transgression, Gavin spun back around to face his partner.

Nines merely grinned back at him cheekily, hands clasped behind his back. “I figured you might appreciate a little reminder from your youth.” 

“ _Appreci—_ appreciate, my _ass!_ I ought to bash your plastic brains in for that,” the man snarled, but the threat was somewhat undermined by corners of his mouth twitching upwards. 

Marching over to seize a fistful of napkins, the detective aggressively wiped off his monitor and desk, muttering all the while. 

“Dark and bitter as my—you could have at least put _some_ coffee in it, Nines.” He glanced over at his partner, and a grin slipped through the cracks of his mask of irritation.

“I think my soul’s at the very least got some medium roast somewhere in there, too.”

The RK900 gave a derisive laugh, but his answering smile was all authenticity. “On the contrary, detective, I was considering adding several more packets of sugar.”

“Asshole.”

“Imbecile.”

“Plastic prick.”

“Ungrateful meat-sack.”

A wad of soaked napkins thwapped into the trash can.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“What can I say?" the RK900 spread his arms, gesturing graciously to the detective's own person, "I learned from the worst.”

An extended middle finger was the only response. Nines grinned.

Yeah. This memory file was definitely being copied to the RK900’s hard drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, so the title lied. xD But I'm still counting this as one of the five. ;)


	4. Late Night Vigil

Cerulean and indigo shadows played across the darkened desks and hallways of the DPD Central Station. The quietude and stillness settled uneasily over the mostly empty space, the air charged with the pressure of unsolved cases and open investigations even in the absence of most of the DPD personnel.

Only a few small halos of desk lamp lights illuminated the area, the remaining handful of officers working feverishly on a particularly tough case. Kidnapping. A seven-year-old girl reported missing, signs of a struggle, blood found at the scene. It had already been 48 hours and things weren’t looking good. More than likely the only thing they’d find was a body, but they were going to try their damnedest to find her before it got to that point. 

Gavin scrubbed his face, willing himself to see what they were missing. Bones ached with the weight of foregone sleep and pink veined the whites of his straining eyes. _Come on, focus, you dipshit. The kid is counting on you to find her. _But they had been at this for hours, and apparently, no new connections wanted to leap off the page and volunteer themselves for consideration. 

The detective shook his head, heaving a massive sigh and looking around the DPD for something else to focus on. Lee, Miller, and Nines were the only other souls left in the near-deserted station. Lee had left to review the facts in the evidence locker—trying to get a new angle on the case, she said—and Chris and Nines were deep in conversation a few desks away.

Chris looked just as run down as the rest of them. Cases involving children were always tough, and it was no surprise it was hitting his friend harder than most, what with his own little Damian at home barely a year old. Grey eyes slid over to his android partner. A couple of months ago he would have thought that the RK900 was completely unaffected by the current crisis, all immaculate appearance, composure, and level tone. But as it was, Gavin had learned a thing or two about his new partner. He could pick out the tense set to Nines’ shoulders, the way his face was a hair too pinched to be anything other than his version of extremely stressed. 

As an android, Nines likely knew the stats better than anyone. Hell, he was probably running and rerunning their probability of finding the kid alive every two minutes if Gavin had learned anything about His Royal Perfectionism. 

He hoped his partner wasn’t beating himself up too much over this. Damn android always _was_ ridiculously hard on himself if his performance was anything less than flawless. And the way this was going, this case was going to turn out to be anything _but_ that.

 _Shit, Gav, is this_ ** _concern?_ ** _For a phcking_ ** _android?_ **

If anyone else had dared to suggest such a thing he would have punched them in the throat. 

But within the privacy of his own mind, he could maybe...possibly...theoretically... _concede_ ...that on a minuscule, infinitesimal level...he was a little, _tiny_ bit concerned.

The detective didn’t know when the damned piece of plastic had wormed his way past his defenses. But he _did_ know that ever since that case straight from hell had trapped the two of them together under several tons of rubble, he could no longer pretend the RK900 wasn’t a living being.

Sure, they’d still been complete assholes to each other at first, even when in such dire straits, but they had had one hell of a long time forced in close quarters together...and the _fear_ in Nines' eyes when things had gotten particularly bad…

Neither of them had wanted to die. 

Shaking the memory off, he forced himself back to his work. They needed a breakthrough, badly. And he wasn’t going to leave until they’d made some sort of progress.

Minutes ticked past into hours and the screen in front of him started blurring before his eyes.

Suddenly the smooth, rich scent of roasted black coffee wafted under his nose. 

His vision sharpened back into focus on chiseled features, soft brown hair, and piercing silver eyes. 

Nines. 

The human detective’s brows furrowed in confusion. He looked down at the mug in front of him, to the android, and back again.

“The phck is this?” 

Nines perched on the edge of his desk and raised an eyebrow. Briefly, Gavin entertained the idea of telling him to get his plastic ass off his workspace, but frankly, he was too tired to muster up the proper amount of righteous indignation. 

“I would assume you’d recognize the incarnation of the deity you worship.”

Gavin gave up on staring at the casefile and leaned back in his chair. The area between his neck and shoulder ached like a bitch. He reached across to try to rub the stiffness away, to no avail. To be honest, he was glad for the interruption—but phck if he’d ever admit that. 

“Already paid my respects several times today, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he rolled his head, cracking his neck before settling back against his chair and leveling the RK900 with a smug look.

“But I was under the impression that you would sooner die a painful death than ever do something like this again. What, did you fry a circuit somewhere in your fancy microwave of a brain?”

The corner of the RK900’s mouth upturned softly and Gavin’s train of thought was annoyingly derailed. He had thought there would be an immediate answering witty riposte, and indeed had several insults lined up waiting in anticipation, but the damn piece of plastic was just staring at him, a warm look in his eyes. Evidently, his partner was trying to confuse him to throw him off his game.

“You looked like you could use it,” Nines said gently.

 _Phck phck phck phck phck._ Why did he have to sound so genuine? It was weirding the detective out.

“I mean,” the RK900 hastily added, “you _do_ rather look like death warmed over.” 

That was more like it. Gavin could breathe easy again as the world tilted back onto its proper axis. 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect little Barbie dolls who don’t need to eat, sleep, or shit.”

The RK900 gave a most un-android-like scoff. “I am _not_ a Barbie doll.”

“Fine, then. Ken doll,” Gavin granted magnanimously. 

“Simpleton.”

“Prat.”

“Neanderthal.”

“Elongated toaster.”

“Irascible pygmy-man.”

“Overpriced easy-bake oven.”

“Where is your imagination? You can’t just go through a list of all your kitchen appliances to insult me.”

“Watch me, ya phcking dishwasher.”

The RK900 snorted in poorly restrained laughter, and the sight of the usually dignified android doing such a thing drew snickers from the human detective. Unfortunately, the sound of Gavin snickering was a sound to behold and soon enough the pair of them were failing miserably at keeping the sound of their collective hysterics at an acceptable volume.

“W-why are we laughing?” Gavin wheezed out, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Nines chuckled with a helpless shrug, “it wasn’t even that funny.”

“Hey! I happen to be _hilarious._ ”

“Yeah, because you’re a _phcking joke_ ,” he said, mimicking the detective’s voice.

Gavin punched Nines in the arm, their laughter dying down to chortles and eventually just a pair of stupid grins. The detective shook his head, looking back at his desk. 

The open case file loomed before him.

> CASE REFERENCE 
> 
> KIDNAPPING
> 
> VICTIM 
> 
> MELODY DAVIS
> 
> CASE ASSIGNED TO 
> 
> DETECTIVE REED
> 
> CASE STATUS 
> 
> OPEN
> 
> INVOLVING ANDROID 
> 
> NO
> 
> REPORTED MISSING ON THE NIGHT OF...

The smile slid from his face and fell to the floor of the DPD. Pressure returned, a vice compressing his chest. _You’re on a clock._ He sighed, limbs heavy with the 50-pound weight of this little girl’s life on the line. 

“Hey.”

Bloodshot grey met blazing silver.

“We’re going to find her. Alive.”

Detective Reed took a bracing breath, giving a short nod and wrapping his hands around the still-steaming mug. Nines returned the nod with a curt one of his own before sliding off Gavin’s desk. He had made it three steps before Gavin called out to him. 

“But if we don’t,” eyes trained on the ghosts curling up softly from the dark liquid in front of him, the detective sensed more than saw his partner pause and turn back around. 

An inspiration of breath informed him of impending protests or reassurances, but they died on the RK900’s tongue as Gavin turned an uncharacteristically solemn gaze on the android. 

“Listen, everyone’s doing the best that we can. If this doesn’t all turn out, just...it wouldn't be your fault, okay?”

The RK900’s jaw clenched shut, unspoken contradiction burning behind stormy eyes. 

The detective tried for a grin, but it came out far more strained than he'd like. “I mean, you can’t take all the damn credit.” 

There was a pause.

“Enjoy the coffee, detective Reed.”

Muted footfalls withdrew to the RK900’s terminal. The sense that he had not really helped festered in the pit of Gavin’s stomach.

Phck, why did he have to care about that?

Phcking androids.

Phcking Nines.

Phcking feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Gavin POV chapter! xD Next up: we're finally out of the DPD, gasp! Also, feelings ahoy.


	5. Coffee Shop Sentiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter gets a bit intense and is twice as long as normal.

Gavin sat hunched over in the taxi, elbows on his knees and worrying a hand over bloody knuckles. His leg jiggled up and down incessantly. Agitation tight in every line of his body. 

> _“Detroit Police! Put your hands up!”_

The motorized hum and low vibrations of the vehicle didn’t even register. Nor did the weight of his friend’s heavy silver gaze on him. 

> _“He’s got a gun--PUT THE WEAPON DO--”_
> 
> _**BANG**_.

Hands brought before his bowed head as if in prayer, clasped so tightly together that white splotches could be seen through the flaky red spottily coating the appendages. The lingering metallic scent of blood invaded his nostrils and he yanked the hands away from his face.

> _Gunfire chattered overhead, ricocheting off metal surfaces and lodging into wood._
> 
> **_BANG. BANG._ **

His body swayed as the vehicle made one last turn and rumbled to a stop. 

> _“Got him. Nines, you okay?”_
> 
> _A nod, and the pair went over to cuff the red ice supplier and summon medical help._

The door slid open in a mechanical whoosh. The polite tones of an automated female voice crackled out of the speakers.

“Thank you for riding with Detroit Taxis. We hope to see you again soon.”

He didn’t hear it.

> _Gavin sucked in a sharp, painful breath._
> 
> _“Shit, it's just a kid. Shit—oh,_ fuck _.” Something dark and cold contorted his intestines._

His partner had exited the vehicle and stood to wait outside the open door, concerned gaze assessing the preoccupied detective.

> _“Nines, call an ambulance,_ **_now_!** _”_
> 
> _Rushing over to the still form, dropping to his knees and vainly trying to stem the blood burbling from weeping bullet hole wounds._
> 
> _Wounds he had inflicted._

“Gavin,” the RK900 said softly.

The detective jerked violently, eyes wild, searching for any threats in the area. Grey eyes settled on the familiar sight of his partner and the detective's tense shoulders relaxed minutely. The quiet, benign surroundings finally seemed to penetrate his scattered thoughts.

The android beckoned and Gavin hastened to duck out of the car, as if he hadn’t just been reliving the events of the red ice production site raid they’d recently left. 

_He couldn’t have been older than 17. And he’d died in his arms._

_Oh, Christ, he’d murdered a fucking_ **_child._ **

Feet hit the pavement with the added weight of the world on his shoulders. It took a surprising amount of effort to straighten and lift his head.

He frowned, eyes taking in the red brick building in front of them. Block letters proudly announced DETROIT COFFEE ROASTERS over a black and white striped awning, and a wood-framed chalkboard sign tented outside the shop front detailed the return of their ‘world-famous pumpkin spice latte’ in artful scribbles.

“What the phck? This isn’t the DPD.”

He knew they shouldn’t have taken the damn taxi service. Useless fucking things.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember calling for a taxi, or even getting in one, for that matter. They had arrived in a squad car with Tina and Chris and he was supremely confused as to why they hadn’t ridden back to the station with them. 

All he could recall was the thick red coating his hands and the desperation and the urgency and the impatience and the flashing red and white and the strong arms pulling him off the bod...off the kid. The water and the scrubbing and the pink running down the drain and _it wasn’t coming off it would stain his hands for the rest of his life it was clinging to his soul it wasn’t coming off it wasn’t coming_ **_off._ **

“I know. I told it to take us here.”

Gavin’s squinted at his partner incredulously.

“Nines, we have a shit-ton of paperwork to fill out.” He never thought he’d see the day that _he, Gavin Reed,_ was reminding Mr. Walking Rulebook about following proper protocol. “We have to debrief with Fowler and the other officers, file our write-ups, and tie up all the other loose ends before we close the case.” 

Not to mention the psych eval they’d have to go through eventually. Fuck. He was _not_ looking forward to that.

The detective scrubbed a hand across his face. He was too tired for this shit. 

“Just—call another taxi, okay?” he waved a hand in the RK900’s direction. 

His partner remained unmoved. “They can survive without us at the station for fifteen more minutes.” 

This was ridiculous. What the hell was his partner thinking? A kid had just died—he was _not_ in the mood for a fucking _latte_. 

Gavin heaved a soul-expelling sigh. “Look, if you’re not going to call one, I will,” he said, reaching into his pocket and digging around for his phone. He’d probably have to re-download the stupid app since he hadn’t used it in forever.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him from pulling out his cellular quarry. 

“It’s not about the coffee,” the android said quietly. “I just think it’d be a good idea to take a break, to have some time to regroup before we return to the station.”

Gavin gave his partner a _look_. Nines returned it with an entreating one of his own.

“Ten minutes,” the android bargained. “Ten minutes and then we’ll get back to the station and fill out all the forms and paperwork and everything else that’s waiting for us.”

The detective wavered. He rather not put this off—there was a mountain of things they had to attend to before this shitty day was over—but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea of the chance to just _stop_ for a moment and collect his thoughts.

Reluctantly, he gave a curt nod, and the RK900 released his wrist and stepped back. 

They made their way inside to the chiming of a small silver bell. Immediately the rich, invigorating scent of roasted coffee beans washed over them, dark and nutty. Strings of exposed lightbulbs crisscrossed the cozy wood-paneled room. The floorboards shifted slightly underneath them as they made their way to the android at the register.

“Hello, how may I help you?” the VS400 greeted them with a smile. Uncomfortable, Gavin shoved his hands, still covered in dried blood, into his pockets. The action served the dual purpose of concealing said hands as well as alerting him to the contents of said pockets--or rather, the lack thereof. 

He turned to his partner, “Shit, Nines, I don’t have any money on me.” Gavin shifted, “come on, let’s just go.” This was a stupid idea. They shouldn’t have come here. They should just leave and—

The RK900, however, was ignoring Gavin and his mounting desire to get the fuck out of there, opting instead to step towards the service android.

“One Americano, please, with two extra shots and a pump of sugarcane. Extra hot.”

“Is there anything else you would like to order?” 

Gavin turned to glare at the RK900, but it was utterly wasted on him. “No, that’ll be all.”

“Please confirm payment.” 

An exchange of circling yellow LEDs. 

“Payment confirmed.”

The two walked off to the side as the drink was prepared, Gavin muttering to the android.

“I’m not a fucking child, you know. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Nines shrugged, unconcerned. “I know, but I wanted to.” 

Well. Gavin wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. He turned a bit to the side, examining a bookcase with a tasteful arrangement of different coffee blends, candles, and books for sale. 

Luckily, it wasn’t long before the steaming cup was placed on the bar. Nines grabbed it and handed it to Gavin as they walked back towards the front of the store. 

“Where do you want to--”

“Let’s go outside.” It was too...oh, he didn’t know. Too trendy, too homey, too _something_ in here.

The bell waved them goodbye with a tinkling tintinnabulation. Without any real outdoor seating to speak of, they ended up sitting down on the concrete steps of a closed shop next door and watching pedestrians and vehicles go past. Gavin took a fortifying swig of his drink, savoring the way the liquid scorched his mouth. He blew out a breath, air rushing over his burnt tongue. Meanwhile, the RK900 was looking around, alert and scanning because the damn android never took a break.

Several minutes slid past in easy silence. Gavin occasionally sipped his drink and tried to just be in the moment. Feel the nipping bite of the brisk breeze, the faint warmth from the pale afternoon sunlight. His thoughts kept turning back to that room, though, and that kid. Dark, pensive, his musings rose and swirled around him like the tide.

Gavin stared down at the black lid of the cup heating his hands, saw the rippling liquid through the small oval hole in the top. 

“It could’ve been me.”

The words slipped out, rough and low, and he felt as his partner leveled that piercing silver gaze at him.

“You know that I would do everything in my power to prevent you from getting injured. I assure you--”

“No,” it grated past his throat, “I don’t--I don’t mean that.” A shaky hand ran down his face, rubbed across the stubble on his chin. He sighed.

“My, uh, my dad was a sack of shit.” His partner shifted beside him, probably not expecting the non sequitur. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing himself. But the words continued to issue from his mouth, leaking from behind the dam walled high around his heart.

“He was a mean drunk. And I’m pretty sure the drugs were the only thing he ever really cared about.” An empty laugh escaped him. _Why the fuck was he saying this out loud? Nines didn’t need to know this; _ _nobody_ _needed to know this._ “He...well, let’s just say it was a good thing when my mom and I finally got out of there.” 

_Seriously, Gavin, what the phck are you doing?_

It was with no small amount of shock that he realized he _wanted_ Nines to understand. Despite their impressively rocky start to a relationship, somehow, someway...this phcking android had become his friend. Maybe even his closest friend, not that he had that many to speak of.

“It was rough, though. She had to work three jobs just to make ends meet. And every single one of them eventually got taken over by androids.” He scoffed, shook his head. Swallowed.

“And then she got sick.”

His fingers tightened around the beverage in his hands. “I was just 16, you know, and that medicine was expensive. I didn’t know what to do--there weren’t a whole lot of options, and--” he huffed a laugh. “I guess you could say that I fell in with the ‘wrong sort.’ Started dealing. None of that fancy red ice shit; that wasn’t around yet.” Something dark twisted the expression on his face. “Hated my old man for it and there I was, doing the same damn thing.” 

A few tense moments of silence stretched past, Gavin's grey eyes dark with memory. 

The detective ran a hand through his hair. Trying to chase the ghosts from his mind. 

“Got caught, of course. Three years in juvie, honestly lucky it wasn’t worse. Fowler, he, uh, he went to bat for me.” He shook his head. “Still have no phcking idea why. He even wrote a couple of times.” Unable to keep the bewilderment out of his voice.

The detective stared pensively out at a woman walking her dog across the street. “It’s crazy how much of a difference just one person giving a shit can make. I’d never had anyone, you know...expect anything more from me.”

“What about your mother?” the RK900’s voice was soft, tentative. Gavin’s throat tightened involuntarily.

“At first, sure, but when she found out about everything...well, we had a bit of a falling out. Didn’t hear from her for several months after I was arrested and then...I learned she’d died. I never did find out what she thought of me, at the end of it all--if she just saw me as a chip off the old block, or what.”

“I’m sorry.”

The detective gave a lumbering half-shrug, “Everyone’s sorry. Doesn’t change anything.”

The RK900 put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, and bitter grey met blazing silver. 

“I know it doesn’t, but I really am sorry,” the android intoned gravely. Gavin wanted to shrug off the sentiment again, but somehow the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t hear that level of authentic intensity very often. Somehow, Gavin got the sudden image that, if he could, the android would go back in time and protect that young Gavin Reed with everything he had, to his very last dying breath if he had to.

The duo fell back into silence, Nines’ arm dropping to his side. Gavin took another swig of his coffee. It wasn’t very hot anymore. He set it down on the pavement, exhaled.

“But don’t you get it? That kid...he was _me_.” 

Oh, fuck. _Why was he doing this?_ He had never been this raw, this real with anyone else in his entire life and he was...dammit he was terrified and already regretting ever opening his mouth, ever letting Nines talk him out of going straight back to the DPD. 

But at the same time, more than anything he wanted to be seen for once in his goddamned life, to be seen and understood, even just a little bit. Maybe it was selfish, but he just wanted someone else to _give a fuck_ for once, to know him, _really_ know him. 

No, not just anyone.

Nines. He wanted Nines to know.

“He was me and—" Muss of brown hair buried in red-tinted hands. Words whispered to the uneven pavement. “And I killed him.”

“Oh, God, I fucking _killed_ him.” His entire frame shuddered with the strength of the turmoil trying to rip him apart. Something cold was stabbing into his chest, constricting around his heart while a burning built up behind his eyes and spread out in an ache that pounded through his whole cranium. 

Oh, fuck no. He may have just unloaded on Nines more than he had on any other living being in his entire life, but he _refused_ to fuck'in _cry_ in front of the android as well. He had quite exceeded his sappy emotional quota probably for the next several years, thank you very much, and he was _drawing the damn line_. 

_Pull yourself the fucking hell together, Reed._

Unfortunately, his harsh, rapid respiration was about as obstinate in regards to obeying orders as the rest of him was. As usual, his go-to response was anger. _Fuck you, Reed. Fuck you and your weakness and your damn feelings. Fuck how broken and messed up you are and fuck you for being this needy as to go bawling to fucking Nines of all people._

Shaking and gasping and trying so damn hard not to cry. 

Suddenly the detective became aware of a presence along his side, shoulder and arm pressed up against his own. No mushy, mortifying hug, no pat on the back, no platitudes about how everything would be fine--just _there_. 

Solid. Present. Grounding. 

Side by side, the android supported the human, kept him propped up, and stopped him from falling apart in the way that only an RK900 named Nines could do for one Detective Gavin Reed.

It was several long moments before the detective reigned in his uneven breaths, forcing them back under his control. They rattled in the silence, shaky and rough but thankfully regular.

_In, out. In, out._

Probably sensing the detective’s desire not to be looked at, the RK900 was instead staring through the wall on the opposite side of the street like he could burn holes into it through sheer force of will. Seconds ticked past under the android’s watchful gaze, and after what was probably half a minute, he surprised the detective by breaking the silence.

“You’re a good man, Gavin. And I don’t think you’ve heard that nearly as much as you need to.”

The detective pulled away. A vicious, hollow laugh clawed its way from his throat. “If you think that, you must not know me at all despite the entire time we’ve been working together, tin can.”

“On the contrary,” the RK900 rebutted resolutely, “I think I’ve gotten to know you quite well over the course of our partnership.”

Gavin snorted. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nines maintained. “I know that you are an excellent detective, despite your baffling efforts to mislead people to think otherwise. I know that you get under people’s skin with your quick temper and confrontational attitude--and I know that most of that is just for show to keep people at arm’s length. I know that you can be callous, cynical, and hardheaded, but that you care deeply about the cases we work and the people involved.”

“I know you can put aside your differences with someone you hate,” he gave the human a meaningful look, “when the circumstances require it. I know that you’ll pull an all-nighter spinning your wheels on the slim chance of providing a family with some closure. I know that you pretend not to give a shit, as you so eloquently put it, about anyone, but that you make sure the people who need to know the truth, do.” 

“So yes, you are a good man, Gavin Reed. Complicated and standoffish and perplexing--but fundamentally good.”

Gavin was unconvinced, uncomfortable, and wrongfooted all at once by this boldfaced assessment. "Yeah, right,” the detective muttered. Maybe the argument would be a little more persuasive if his hands weren’t still stained with the blood of the child he’d just murdered. Stained with the clinging remnants that had refused to be washed away by his earlier frantic scouring. _No amount of washing could make him clean after that._

A shoulder knocked against his own, and the detective reflexively looked back over to his partner. 

“Yes, I _am_ right,” the RK900 said. “And one day, you’ll see it, too.”

There was that damned determination again. Oh, Christ, he could practically _see_ the objective materializing before the android’s optical units. 

Right.

Well.

That was enough of that.

Uncomfortable, Gavin swiped up his near-empty coffee cup and rose to his feet. Deflecting was a particular specialty of his, after all.

“Thought I was, ah--what was your favorite phrase again? Oh, yeah, ‘ _human trash_.’” As if to punctuate his point, he chucked the coffee cup into a nearby trash can. Crossing his arms, he turned to the RK900 who was now also standing up.

Nines gave a small smile and blessedly let the heaviness of the conversation fall away. Matching the human detective’s posture, he responded airily. “And I certainly stand by my previous statements. But you know what the humans say,” he winked. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Gavin shoved the RK900, nose scrunched in distaste. “Oh, lord, never say that again.”

“Why not?” the smile was audible in Nine’s voice. “This is some pretty high-quality trash I see right here. A truly valuable pile of rubbish. Grade A refuse. One-of-a-kind waste.”

“Nines, I swear to God you better shut the fuck up.”

“The best garbage around. Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular--”

“I’m going to do it. I don’t know how, but I will _murder_ the entirety of the _fucking Internet_ if only to stop you from getting access to any more memes.”

“No need to go to such effort, dear detective. All such 'memes' from your generation are all already downloaded and backed up to my hard drive.”

**_“Nines--”_ **

“Oh, look, the taxi is here!”

The detective shoved the RK900 again, but the android had succeeded in putting a smile on his face. Damn android probably timed the taxi's arrival, and it was entirely unfair.

The smile faded from Gavin’s face, however, as the self-driving vehicle came to a stop in front of them. As he was reminded of their destination, of everything waiting for them back at the station. Bureaucracy, the tidying up and processing of destroyed lives in cold and stunted efficiency. The image of the kid’s face hovered in his mind. 

He sighed, a familiar weight settling back onto his shoulders. 

Nines stepped up next to him.

It might’ve been just his imagination, but the weight didn’t feel quite as heavy as it did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably the heaviest chapter feels-wise. But yes, you get some backstory, and t'was another Gavin POV! Undecided as to what POV the last one will be in (if y'all have any preference I'd be interested to hear your input). Thanks for reading.


	6. Returning the Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the finished product. This whole thing has been really fun to write, as you can probably tell how I got carried away on the length of this chapter. So much for my short and sweet thing I had going on haha, but anyways I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and I couldn't decide on a POV so I went with them both. xD

> WARNING: THIRIUM RESERVES LOW

Nines stumbled through the double glass doors of the DPD. He quickly caught himself, however, and adjusted his jacket, straightening the dirtied and torn article of clothing. Optical units scanned the lobby for anyone who might’ve seen his misstep. Luckily, the ST300s receptionists were the only ones in the entrance area, and their gazes had trained on the human FBI agents striding into the precinct ahead of the android. 

_Come on, keep it together, keep it together, Nines._

If there was an unnatural stiffness to his gait, well, he was an android, after all. 

_Just make it to your desk and then you can get to work._

He had to prove to Perkins he was an asset to the strike team. Gavin and the other officers had already been taken off the case, and Nines _refused_ to let Perkins’ men handle this anti-android domestic terrorist group alone.

They _needed_ Nines—particularly his superior processing capabilities and his military-grade combat and investigative software—but the android knew that Perkins was looking for any reason to boot him. This desire wasn’t based on any real case-specific or logical grounds so much as the man’s personal grudge against Gavin and anyone remotely connected to him.

Nines wasn’t sure what Gavin had done to get on the FBI agent’s bad side—though in all honesty he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that he _had_ gotten on the man’s bad side—but the android had rather quickly found himself in the same corner after he had walked in on a verbal confrontation between the two and... _interposed._

In hindsight, he probably should have scanned the man’s face to check who this unfamiliar new person in the precinct was before comparing the man to a diseased rodent. 

But, damn it—no one got to call his partner trash but _him._

Regardless, Nines had soon gotten acquainted with the FBI agent beyond his rat-like appearance, and he could now confidently conclude that the shorter man’s resemblance to vermin was more than skin deep. Perkins was ruthless, cruel, vindictive, and condescending. Most appallingly in Nine’s personal opinion, he was a detestable leader who did not care for the lives of his own men and, indeed, was despised by most of his coworkers.

Nines did not regret his original comments towards the man. He only regretted that he could no longer express his utterly unimpressed dissatisfaction and distaste with the repugnant human if he wanted to see this case through to the end.

He was lucky the higher-ups saw his services as vital to the investigation. Never mind that part of the reason he was still being sent out was due to “the fortunate confluence” of his “compatible skillset and inherent expendability” as an android. The RK900 was not too sure how he felt about that particular phrasing, but it had allowed the DPD to maintain a foothold in the case, and it let Nines stop Perkins from mucking things up too horribly.

Perkins was not fond of androids. He saw them as tools to be used and thrown away and still carried a chip on his shoulder for not nipping the deviant revolution in the bud with Markus. He had also, at one point, expressed his support for the terrorist organization’s ideals and how he wished only that they had gone about it a different way. By targeting both androids _and_ sympathetic humans, the Bureau was prevented from turning a blind eye to their activities.

That Perkins had indicated approval for the bringing to heel of androids through mass murder may or may not have been the reason the man currently had a broken nose, while Gavin had bloody knuckles and a position firmly _off_ the case.

This also may or may not have had anything to do with how the FBI agent had been staring straight at Nines as he expressed these sentiments.

Gavin’s untimely expulsion from the case, however, only provided all the more reason for Nines to do everything in his power to stay _on_ the task force. He was treading on thin ice as it was; his position would be put in serious jeopardy if Perkins got even a _hint_ of an idea that he was not functioning optimally. And he would need to put up a convincing show of it because Perkins was _incensed_ and looking for someone to take it out on.

The raid had been a complete disaster, to say the least. They thought they’d gotten the location of the terrorist cell’s home base, but it had been a trap. Not only that, but Perkins had signaled the team to storm the place before they had fully secured and cordoned it off under the misguided assumption that waiting any longer would ruin the element of surprise. 

What had followed was complete pandemonium. They had evidently been expected, and were greeted with a massive firefight that killed one agent, put three in critical condition, and caused injuries to half a dozen more. Nines had been shot up in the leg while helping one of these agents to safety, and now almost certainly needed to replace his lower leg component.

Making a quick run to a CyberLife store for spare parts had been out of the question, but at least the RK900 had been able to bandage his wounds in secret so that Perkins was none the wiser. He had lost an unfortunate amount of thirium, however, and he really _did_ need to replace his lower leg component. But not right now. They had just walked into the terrorist cell’s trap, there had been sizable casualties and Perkins was furious in that frigid, tightly controlled way of his. What Nines needed to do right now was help them find the true location of the cell ASAP and prove his worth. 

There was no time to waste.

> WARNING: THIRIUM RESERVES LOW

Now if only those stupidly redundant warning notifications would go away. He would attend to himself as soon as they caught the terrorists—they were right on their tail, he just needed to _do_ this and then he’d be _fine_.

“How was the—” Chris Miller spun around in his chair to track the RK900’s progress and stopped short at the dour mood of both the android and the other FBI agents.

“It was a set-up,” Nines answered tersely without stopping.

“Those fuckers are going to _pay_ ,” one of the FBI agents within earshot growled. 

Nines had just come upon his terminal when another dizzy spell hit him. He fisted a hand against the desk, breathing deeply through his nose and trying to collect himself. Carefully, he lowered himself into his seat— _please, RA9, don’t let him miss the chair or something equally ridiculous—_ and set to work. 

Perkins was whipping out orders in the form of icicles at the entire precinct about how this was priority number one and how everyone needed to be on top of their game and get their fuckin' asses into gear on this. Nines thought the man was being far more accusatory in tonality than was strictly warranted. The strike team had been operating under his orders, after all, when everything had gone to hell. Though the RK900 had no doubt the odious man would find a way to shift the blame to someone else.

It was after a tense fifteen minutes of furiously reworking over everything they thought they knew when Nines noticed the liquid seeping from his bandages and sliding down his calf. 

_No no no no no no no._ He was not going to drip a puddle of thirium on the floor—he was _not_.

Abruptly he stood up.

> Ẃ̠̥̭̪̚͡Á͇͎͎͕͂̕͞R̫͍̱̊͐̐NȈ̖͈̈͞ͅN͇͠G͍͖͛̚:̖̼͖̎͌̀͂͜͢͡ ̻̳̓͘T̰͖͖̣̏̅̈̋H̤͡Į̣̃̊͋͜Ṛ̀̌͜Ị̣̊̅̚͢Ư̝̼̾M ̛̖͎̬͔̄̈̿Ȑ̥̻̮̹̈̋̃E̛̬͐͟S͈̿Ḛ͑̏ͅṞ͝V̛͙̘̮̆̒̂ͅĚ̦͎͛S ̖̳̐Ḽ̒O̤̫̲̽͊͞W̛̖̯̄

The RK900 leaned against the desktop, head bent. Deep breaths. _Come_ **on** , Nines. Don’t draw any attention to yourself. Steeling himself, he straightened his back, lifted his head, and pulled back his shoulders. One foot in front of the other. 

It was with a truly embarrassing amount of concentration that he made his way over to the bathroom. He just needed to redress his wounds and then he could get back to work. 

An officer exited the restroom ahead of him, and Nines hurriedly shifted gears, pretending he was going towards the observation room until the man had passed. A quick scan showed no one in the secluded back hallway before the android ducked into the room. Thermal signatures indicated no other humans present in the restroom, for which Nines was immensely grateful. 

Still, he’d rather not push his luck, and he secured the stall door behind him before making as quick a work of the redressing process as he was able. He had known this would be necessary and had stashed extra bandages in his jacket, but the seconds still ticked past loudly in his internal clock, mocking him for every moment he was wasting, every moment he allowed nothing but his full attention to be given to locating the terrorists at large.

Wound freshly wrapped, Nines exited the stall with the old blue-stained bandages in his hands.

This, of course, was the exact moment that someone decided it was a good idea to enter the restroom.

~~~∆~~~

Waiting for the strike team to return had been sheer torture for Gavin. He hated waiting. Especially when he was waiting for his best friend to return from an extremely delicate and dangerous mission with only _Perkins’_ men to back him up. 

His agitation and occasional pacing had apparently been “disruptive” to the other DPD personnel, according to Captain Fowler—which he resented, by the way—Gavin Reed did not _pace_. He just thought better while moving around sometimes, that was all. And there was certainly a lot to think about with this growing domestic terrorist threat and the almost guaranteed shootout at their home base that his friend was walking into basically alone.   
  
He hadn’t heard from Nines in a while and he was really starting to wonder—the fuckers were primarily an anti- _android_ group, you know, so if anyone on the strike team was in particular danger of being targeted by the terrorists it was his partner, and despite what everyone, including Nines, seemed to think, the damn android wasn’t indestructible—and that didn’t even begin to cover how little Gavin trusted the rat-man in charge of the whole operation—hell, he was probably looking for a way to put Nines on the front lines and get him killed. Dammit, he really shouldn’t have gotten himself kicked off the case, Nines could be in serious trouble and he was stuck here just sitting on his a and twiddling his thumbs and he could have _been there_ for him and had his back because those FBI agents sure as hell didn’t and—

At any rate, Fowler had sent him down to the archive room to retrieve a hard copy of a file the Captain wanted. Ostensibly. While pulling him aside to ask him to do so, Fowler had also told Gavin in no uncertain terms he was to “pull himself the fuck together and stop worrying” while he was down there.

Which was preposterous, really. Gavin Reed did not _worry,_ just like he did not _pace_. 

Or at least, he didn’t _use_ to worry. That was before he somehow found himself the best friend of a stupid, reckless, self-sacrificing idiot. Now it seemed his peace of mind was inextricably linked to the well-being of an oversized Nokia phone with a hero complex. Caught up in the maelstrom of his thoughts, the detective stomped down the subterranean hall to Evidence Container 23.

Gah, life was so much easier when he didn’t give a shit about anybody. Everyone hated him, he hated everyone—he was on amicable terms with Tina and Chris, sure, but everything was simple and he only ever really had to worry about his own damn self. 

No one had ever gotten quite under his skin as Nines had. Angrily, he punched in the password Fowler had told him to use in order to bring up the wall of filing cabinets. 

Damn Nines for flipping his world upside down. He hadn’t even known it was possible to care about someone else so much, and it was wreaking havoc on his mental health. Not that there had been much there to begin with but that was _beside the point_. The detective located the section of drawers labeled “Arson and Insurance Fraud” and began digging through them sourly. _Why the phck did they still keep hard copies of things, anyway?_

He bet Fowler kept this all down here specifically for the purpose of being able to force officers into his version of time-out. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit far fetched.

He continued flipping past files for several seconds before his hand paused, hovered in mid-air. Or, maybe it wasn’t quite so far fetched.  
  
Fowler always _was_ complaining about being put in charge of a kindergarten class of dysfunctional idiots, so who knew. Hmm. Something to think about later.

He shook his head, getting back to his searching—Christ, this was so inefficient, how did anybody _deal_ with this shit back in the day and—there! His hand snatched up the thick manila folder triumphantly. Casefile of a previously convicted arsonist, Noah Orion—whoever the phck that was. Closing the cabinet and signing out of the terminal to close the evidence locker, the mechanical whir of the cabinets being brought back into the wall and sealed off by the metal overhead door sounded at his already retreating back. 

He emerged back into the wider office space of the DPD to find the strike team had returned. He almost threw his hands up in the air in frustration. _Of phcking_ ** _course_ ** this was when they had all gotten back. The detective stomped over to Fowler, shoved the file into his hands with a barely civil, “Got it,” and strode back over towards his desk, eyes scanning for a certain brown-haired and silver-eyed individual.

Nines was sitting at his desk—safe, alive, apparently in one piece—and something loosened slightly within the detective, an unclenching in his gut that was most certainly _not_ relief because he hadn’t thought Nines would be anything less than fine for a second. His partner _was_ looking tense and a bit worse for wear, though, jacket dirtied and his normally pristine hair mussed. Gavin’s not-relief fizzled out as Nines stood up abruptly and leaned against his desk with a pinched expression. 

His not-worry only heightened as the android began making his way stiffly across the precinct. Those damn FBI agents were probably none the wiser but to Gavin, it was crystal clear that something was _not right_ with his friend. It screamed from the tension strung taut through every slow, deliberate step and the RK900’s gaze that was disturbingly more mechanical than normal.

Gavin pushed past a pair of said ignorant FBI agents to follow his friend. _Where the phck was he headed?_ He turned the corner to see the tail of a white jacket disappear into...the bathroom? Okay, weird, considering androids didn’t shit, for one thing. 

“Hey, Reed!” Officer Lewis flagged him down. Gavin inwardly groaned as he became acutely aware of the otherwise empty hallway and lack of convenient getaway. 

“Lewis,” he greeted distractedly, trying to look over the other man’s massive shoulder to watch as the door at the end of the hall swung shut. 

“I know now isn’t the best time, what with everything that’s going on—but look, I’ve got that promotional exam to become a detective coming up in a couple of months and I just wanted to ask you…”

It took an annoying miniature eternity to extract himself from the conversation. The other officer’s words were still hitting against his back like incessant flies as he finally moved around the large man to continue down the hallway.

“Yep! I will definitely help you with it later!” he threw over his shoulder against the other man’s finishing stutters. “Just not right now,” he muttered as he sensed Officer Lewis shuffling back into the main area of the DPD.

It was with a small sense of relief that he was finally able to swing open the door and find out what the phck was going on with his partner.

~~~∆~~~

Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and no other options available, the RK900 brought the used bandages behind his back. An unfortunate situation, but he’d be fine if he could just move past the intruder as quickly as possible and drop the bandages in the trashcan by the door on his way out. 

This plan was immediately driven from his mind, however, as he registered just who the figure who’d entered the bathroom was.

“Gavin,” he said, half relieved it was a friendly face and half apprehensive that if anyone could tell that something was wrong with him it was his closest friend.

“Nines,” the detective replied, his poorly masked concern leaking through the single syllable. How was he _already_ concerned? 

“So you wanna tell me what’s up with you? What happened with the raid? Are you okay?” _Why didn’t you seek me out as soon as you got back so I knew you were alright?_ The words weren’t spoken but the android heard them all the same.

Nines’ jaw clenched almost painfully. 

“I’m fine." Not wanting to dwell on that somewhat shady area of interpretation, he elected to focus on the second question of the slew Gavin had thrown at him. "The raid, though—it was a trap. They knew we were coming, and it was chaos—a lot of agents were wounded, Williams was killed—and I need to get back to work so we can finally make some _progress_ and put an _end_ to this terrorist organization.”

Taking the opportunity to make a quick exit. “So if you’ll _excuse_ me,” he said while avoiding his partner’s gaze. He strode past Gavin and moved to deposit the soiled bandages in the garbage. 

A hand caught his wrist before he could, however.

Grey eyes looked from the blue-soaked bandages to the RK900’s own silver optical units, drilling into them with a molten intensity.

“You’re _fine_ , huh?”

Nines ripped his hand away and threw the wad into the trash can. It landed with a wet spat. Why was nothing going his way today? 

The android turned back defiantly towards the detective. _“Yes_ , Gavin, I am _fine_.” 

The returning stare was the height of skepticism. 

“Okay, so I might have also gotten injured. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. I promise I’ll replace my leg component _after_ we’ve—”

“Woah, woah, woah— _replace your leg component? Nines!_ What the phck did you do to yourself?!” 

RA9. His processors must really be suffering from the lack of blue blood. What kind of a foolish, witless, _infantile_ thing did he just do, revealing more information than necessary like that?

The RK900 brought up his hands to scrape through his scalp, but stopped a fraction of an inch away— _now wouldn’t that just be perfect, smearing the thirium on your hands all through your hair—_ and instead brought them down to fists at his sides.

“Gavin, I really, really, _do not need this right now_. I was just helping another agent to safety, some stray bullets caught me in the leg, and I _will_ take care of it _after_ we get a new lead on these _fucking terrorists_. We messed up somewhere, or maybe someone tipped them off—I don’t know, but we need to go back and find out _whatever it is_ before anyone else gets hurt. They’re on the move right now so we have a chance to go after them before they go back underground and we _cannot_ let them get away, I—”

His partner held his hands up placatingly. “Okay, okay, I got it, Nines. And I agree. Detroit will be a much safer place for humans and androids once this terrorist cell is dealt with.” The detective inhaled, his tenuous level-headedness quickly running out. “But what the _FUCK_ were you thinking?! It’ll take like _ten minutes—_ _tops—_ to go to the storage locker of spare parts, get some thirium, and fix your leg up. Why the _fucking hell_ have you not done so already?!”

> Ẃ̠̥̭̪̚͡Á͇͎͎͕͂̕͞R̫͍̱̊͐̐NȈ̖͈̈͞ͅN͇͠G͍͖͛̚:̖̼͖̎͌̀͂͜͢͡ ̻̳̓͘T̰͖͖̣̏̅̈̋H̤͡Į̣̃̊͋͜Ṛ̀̌͜Ị̣̊̅̚͢Ư̝̼̾M ̛̖͎̬͔̄̈̿Ȑ̥̻̮̹̈̋̃E̛̬͐͟S͈̿Ḛ͑̏ͅṞ͝V̛͙̘̮̆̒̂ͅĚ̦͎͛S ̖̳̐Ḽ̒O̤̫̲̽͊͞W̛̖̯̄

Nines squinted angrily at his partner past the ridiculous warning display obscuring his HUD. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, _Detective Reed_ , Perkins has been on my case since day one and he is just _looking_ for a reason to kick me off this assignment. He’s probably keeping an eye on the storage locker, waiting for the opportunity to get some sort of ammunition against me to bring to the higher-ups to show— _oh, look, the fancy military-grade android came off worse than many of my human agents, it's clearly incapable of putting the mission first and protecting its fellow officers, it let agent Williams_ **_die_ ** _for RA9’s sake, maybe it’s best if we just sideline the useless piece of plastic so we can get on with the investigation--_ well guess, what, Gavin, guess what?!” The RK900’s voice had risen to a hysteric pitch but he was beyond caring. “I _am_ capable! I _can_ fucking protect others and I _can_ do my damn job! I _can_ put the mission before everything else and I will fucking _prove_ it to them if it _kills_ me!”

The RK900 was breathing heavily, synthetic respiration oxygenating his limited thirium supplies and bringing a faintness to his head that made the room spin slightly. 

“I just need to, I need to--” Knees buckling, calloused hands immediately appeared at his side, helping lower him to the ground. The cool wall of the bathroom slid up against his back and suddenly he found himself sitting on the floor. Gavin was crouched close in front of him, the smell of worry thick and cloying on him, swirling eddies in stormy grey eyes.

There was a painful smile on his partner’s face and an unreadable look in his eyes. “You _are_ capable, Nines, I trust you with my life. And it’s not your fault Williams died. But this is _not_ the right way to go about this.” His gaze narrowed slightly. “You’re not fuckin' Superman, and it’s not the end of the world that you might need a little help.” 

Nines would have pointed out the gross hilarity of _Gavin Reed_ saying as much to someone else, but he was having an annoyingly difficult time getting his thoughts in order. 

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “We’re going to go get that leg component for you, alright? Come on," he said and began to try to help Nines to his feet, but the android resisted. It was with a somewhat feverish glint in the android’s optical units that he insisted he wouldn’t be revealing his weakened state to _anyone_ at the DPD lest it got back to Perkins.

The detective’s face scrunched in frustration, and he blew out a very slow breath. “Okay, okay,” the words were tight, “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Stay here, try not to bleed out while I’m gone, and I’ll be back in a minute. Perkins shouldn’t be watching _me_ like a hawk, at least.” Even though Nines could tell Gavin thought he was overreacting, he at least appreciated the concession.

“Lock the door or something while I’m gone if you’re that worried about being seen.” With that, the detective swept from the room. Nines laid a glowing white hand against the frame to hack the mechanical lock as soon as the door closed and then leaned his head up against the cool wall. He sighed.

> W̩̹̬̠͆̉̓̃4̪͕̠́̽͝R͚̒Ņ̙̪̣͛̃̈̏!N̜̽G̛̣̩͕̾͞:̩̚ ̯̻̳̞́͋̔͘͞ͅT̢͉̫͉̐͌̄͜͞Ḧ̳̩͖͗͡*̡͚̪͎̉͛̂̀R͓̤̙̜̊̒͘%̟̤̱̥̻̄͐̂̋UM̜̘̪͗̈̈ ̣̝͙̎͆̈̊͟Ŕ̬̹̹̫̰̔̾̇͘3̛̘͕̗̍̉$͕ER̥͍͛͒V̰͍͎͌͒͠5S ̛̟1̡̖͕̥̇̊̌͒0̢̗̆̔W̛̱

~~~∆~~~

Gavin ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he stalked away from the restroom. _Of all the stupid, hair-brained, phcking idiotic—honestly, how much thirium_ _had_ _Nines lost that any of that reasoning made sense to him?_ If anything, the fact that androids could be fixed up so quickly compared to the long convalescence period humans required would be a point _for_ keeping him on the case, not some sort of weird vindication in Perkins’ favor.

But _nooo_ , his partner had to be the embodiment of perfection and indestructible to boot, apparently. And he was evidently willing to go to dangerous lengths to prove that to _somebody_. The detective stomped up to the storage locker, locating the spare component parts for the RK900 that CyberLife had supplied when Nines first joined the DPD. He slammed open the lid of the container perhaps a shade too forcefully. 

ARGH! This whole case was a fucking shit-show. Nothing good had come of it. Androids were being viciously targeted, human and android civilians were being caught in the crossfire, _Perkins—_ the prejudiced fucker—was in charge of the whole operation, Gavin himself had gotten kicked off the case, and Nines was alone with his ridiculous self-sacrificial tendencies and unhealthy expectations of himself to fester like pus-filled boils.

He was worried about Nines. Fuck it all, he couldn't even pretend to himself otherwise at the moment. Aside from the obviously alarming physical state his partner was currently in, it was clear that this was about more than sticking it to Perkins and showing him no weakness. For one, it was pretty phcking obvious that the android blamed himself for Williams’ death, though he might not admit that. _Did he actually think he was proving Perkins wrong by hurting himself like this or was this all some sort of twisted penance?_

Nines had always been a perfectionist, but Jesus fucking _Christ_ , he had had no idea how deeply this need to be perfect ran or the dangerous lengths to which it would push the RK900. As much as Nines was a living being to him now, one thing the android had never seemed to wrap his mind around was that being alive was fucking chock full of imperfection and failure and disappointment. That nobody was flawless or faultless, and as advanced as his mechanical toaster oven ass was, that fucking applied to _him_ , too. He shook his head. _Okay, focus on one thing at a time. Leg component and thirium—Nines needs you._

He rather did think it would be suspicious to casually be carrying around half a leg, so he ended up snagging a small duffle bag to stuff the component in. Also—the thirium, Nines would need something to drink it out of since he did not exactly trust his partner’s hand-eye coordination with the packages at the moment, and...oh, there. Perfect. Hastily dumping several packages worth of thirium into the container and dropping a few more into the duffle for good measure, Gavin quickly made his way back to the restroom.

Casting a quick glance around the empty hallway, he knocked on the door. 

“Hey, tin can, it’s me.” 

The disengaging of the lock clicked and Gavin pushed his way inside. He wasn’t sure if he was more concerned by the fact that Nines hadn’t moved from his position against the floor—he always _was_ a self-conscious prick of a Motorola—or the wounds he was revealing as he slowly unwrapped the bloody mess that was his leg. 

“Shit, Nines,” he said lowly. “You were _walking_ on that?” Crouching down, he inspected the injury closer as the RK900 re-locked the door. Personally, he thought that Nine’s calf more closely resembled swiss cheese than an actual leg at the moment. He could count at least four bullet holes, not to mention how it was just generally scored by what had probably been flying debris, and thirium continued to leak sluggishly from the wound even now, thick and azure. He shook his head, swallowed. He was suddenly very glad that androids could simply swap out their damaged parts, because _damn_ , if he’d gotten that injury he wasn’t sure if he’d recover enough to be able to go back out in the field for a _long_ time, maybe ever.

Nines was able to unplug his lower leg component at the knee with relative ease and the damage-ridden limb fell away. Gavin brought out the fresh component, maneuvered it into place, and helped the RK900 plug it in. The whole operation was surprisingly simple, and Gavin had the incredible urge to make some sort of _I told you so_ comment. Like, _see, was that so phcking hard you metal knucklehead?_ But something kept his mouth glued shut. Something that tasted an awful lot like his fucking new best friend, _worry_ , because Nines’ silver gaze was growing more and more unfocused.

Not wasting another second, Gavin brought out the thirium. The android squinted hazily at the object in the detective’s hands.

“You...you brought _coffee?”_

Gavin looked down at the 30 oz thermos in his hands. It had actually been a gift from Nines, on the two-year anniversary of their partnership. He’d been a right cheeky bastard when giving it to him— _a fitting way to commemorate the beginning of our partnership, don’t you think?—_ but the RK900 couldn’t quite hide the sincerity behind the gesture, either. It had soon become well-known around the DPD how much Gavin valued his massive coffee thermos, and how he absolutely refused to let anyone else even touch it—even Nines, despite the fact that he was the one who had given it to him.

“What,” the android chuckled, “you couldn’t go even ten minutes without your caffeinated lifeblood?”

“That’s not—of course I could!” Gavin said defensively. He held out the thermos towards his partner. “It’s _thirium,_ you idiot.” The android hesitated and Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Take it. God knows how much you need it.” Tentatively, the RK900 removed the prized possession from the detective’s grasp. It was as he was tilting it back that something occurred to Gavin.

“You know,” he considered, “it actually might have a rather strong coffee-flavored tint to it, now that I think about it. I can’t really remember the last time I cleaned that thing out.” The RK900 choked and that damn plague of worry came back in full force—because wouldn't it just positively _make_ this fuckin' horrible ass day if Nines choked to death on the very thing that was supposed to make him better—but the aforementioned worry slowly subsided as he realized that Nines was _laughing_ and not asphyxiating.

Heart still beating a little too fast, Gavin looked on in a state of semi-consternation as Nines continued to laugh his ass off. 

“What?” he asked somewhat uncertainly. Damn android really _did_ need that thirium—he was getting downright loopy. The RK900 had tears pricking at the corners of his optical units, almost doubled over in merriment.

“It’s n-nothing,” the android managed to get out. “Just that, a-after all this time, G-Gavin _phcking_ Reed has essentially brought someone else a c-coffee for once in his RA9-damned life,” Nines guffawed, and Gavin frowned. (He would fight anyone to the death who dared to call it a pout.)

“First of all, as I said earlier, it’s _thirium,_ you plastic-brained jackass, and second of all, this is not the first time I’ve ever done a nice thing and gotten someone else a coffee, you know.” This just sent the RK900 into another round of—oh, lord, was he _giggling_ now?

“R-really?” the android tried to give him a hard stare but it was somewhat undermined by his current lack of composure. “When? Name _one_ time.” Expectant silver gaze met gray. 

A beat passed. Then two more.

“Okay so just because I can’t think of any instance right _now_ doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened,” he poked a finger at the android self righteously. The only response was another round of laughter. Gavin drew a hand down his face.

“Oh for phck’s sake, just drink your damn bucket of blue blood like a good little psychotic toaster, will ya?” Nines put his hands up in the air in mock surrender, and with shoulders still occasionally shaking in mirth, brought the thermos to his lips and downed the thirium inside.

As the RK900 drained the coffee thermos, he seemed to calm down from his bout of hysteria and a more solemn mood stole back over the detective duo. When Nines had finished the thermos, Gavin refilled it with the spare packages of thirium. He could see the alertness returning to his partner’s gaze, and it only took three-quarters of the way through the second round before he informed Gavin that his thirium levels had returned to equilibrium.

He took back the coffee thermos from his friend but hesitated to start repacking things into the duffle bag. Nines might be put back in physical working order, but there was a serious conversation they needed to have. A conversation that was long overdue.

Gavin just wasn’t too sure of how he was supposed to start.

~~~∆~~~

But Gavin didn’t need to be the one to broach it, however, because the full restoration of Nines’ processing faculties brought with it the android’s unerring ability to read his partner. Sitting up straight, the RK900 tilted his head slightly in concern.

“What’s wrong?” 

As much as Nines desperately wanted to get back to working the case, it was clear that something was bothering Gavin. 

“You have that constipated look on your face whenever you try thinking too hard.”

The comment earned a snort from the detective and a punch in the arm, but when Gavin didn’t fire back with any vitriolic ripostes, the android’s concern heightened. Gavin shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Nines..." Gavin sighed, then cringed. "We need to...talk." The words seemed to be physically paining the detective, extracted excruciatingly from the man like pulled teeth. The RK900 gestured for him to continue.

“It’s something that's been a thing for a while, and—it's just," he sighed, "Nines, you—” Gavin gripped his hair and made a noise of frustration. He seemed to be attempting to burn holes into the restroom floor with the blazing hot glare he was leveling at it. “Phck words,” the detective said darkly to himself.

Nines leaned forward to catch his partner’s eye. “Hey, it’s okay. Take your time, you can tell me anything.”

Unfortunately, this just seemed to make Gavin more agitated. “GAH! Stop that!” He pointed in the RK900’s face. “Stop reassuring me! _I’m_ supposed to be the one reassuring _you_!” Nines drew back, a frown creasing between his eyebrows. The detective had finally gotten past his inability to articulate, and the words poured from his mouth in a flood.

“You...you impossible phck! You have always been there for me and had my back in everything and you’ve helped me feel like an actual goddamned human being who matters and I phcking hate you for it!” The detective was shouting and Nines was growing more confused the more Gavin went on. Had he made some sort of mistake in offering support to his partner in previous encounters? Had he completely misread the situation this entire time? It seemed he’d soon find out, as the human didn’t seem to be slowing down in his unorthodox rant.

“You are probably the first person in my entire phcking life who I _know_ actually gives a damn about me and that’s phcking mind-blowing but also you do that and then phcking go and turn around with absolutely no phcking regard for your own thrice-damned self and you are just phcking _impossible!”_

Nines stared at his irate partner in shock, unable to form the words to respond. He didn’t—he didn’t have _no_ regard for his own well-being. Sometimes there were just more important things than his own life to worry about. He tried to express this to his partner, but the man only cut him off angrily.

“And what about what’s important to _me,_ huh, you phcker?” The man’s voice thickened, grey eyes taking on a strange glint. “Because damn it all to hell, I phcking _care_ about you, but you don’t seem to give a flying fuck about that! You almost phcking bled out on the phcking _bathroom floor_ and over phcking _Perkins_ of all people?! Just because you think getting hurt while _saving someone else’s goddamned life_ is somehow a weakness?” Nines opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips at the look on his partner's face.

“Nines, you don’t need to shoulder the entire pchking world on your shoulders,” he said, voice finally coming down from a shout, though Nines wasn’t sure that was better. He could brush off the incensed shouting as Gavin being Gavin, but somehow this dark intensity struck much more uncomfortably close to home. 

“You are part of the DPD, part of a _team_ , and more importantly you are _my_ _partner_ and that means that I am at _least_ as responsible as you are for every fucked up case and every unhappy ending to an investigation.” 

Nines matched his partner’s tone. “But it’s different, Gavin. I’m an android, I’m CyberLife’s most advanced prototype, I’m supposed to be better, I’m _supposed_ to—”

“ _Fuck_ who you’re _supposed_ to be! Fuck it! Fuck CyberLife and the DPD and anyone else’s expectations! You’re only a goddamn man, Nines."  
  
The detective let out a bark of sardonic laughter, "Maybe nobody’s properly introduced you, but _welcome the phck to humanity and to being alive!”  
  
_ Gavin leveled his intense grey gaze at Nines, and the sheer burning desire for Nines to _understand_ what he was about to say took the RK900's breath away.

“It’s _messy_ and _imperfect_ and you’ll probably screw up and get screwed over several times before life is through with you.” Gavin reached out and grabbed his partner’s shoulder. “But you get back up from whatever shithole life dumped you in. You drag yourself out of it and you get up again and _again_ as many times as it pushes you down. You just gotta do your goddamn best to keep moving and be better next time because that’s all you _can_ do, Nines. It’s _enough_. _You_ are enough.” 

His words softened to a mere whisper.

“You’re enough for _me_.”

Nines swallowed, but somehow it didn’t really feel like it went all the way down. “I don’t, uh, Gavin, I—” Something strange was happening at the back of his optical units, a burning and a gathering of cleaning fluid and that was ridiculous he was not programmed to _cry_ and there was something tight constricting in his chest but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant and he was just incredibly _confused—_

Arms wrapped around him and he found his face buried in Gavin’s shoulder, the smell of his leather jacket filling his olfactory receptors. 

The RK900 sat frozen for a moment, stunned. Gavin Reed...was hugging him?

Gavin Reed was hugging him.

“I thought you didn’t do hugs,” he mumbled, words muffled by the detective’s clothing.

“I don’t,” Gavin said, tightening his hold on the RK900.

Tentatively, Nines reached up and reciprocated the embrace. It was unfamiliar and he felt a bit awkward at first, clumsy—the android didn’t think he’d ever been hugged in his entire limited life, though Connor had certainly tried at one point. But he found that it was...it was actually rather nice, the feel of another living being so close. Gavin’s muscled arms were strong, supportive, and the sensation of his body pressed close to his just felt...right, somehow. It fit, and it was almost like he could share part of that world Gavin insisted he was always carrying around on his shoulders. Lighten the load by splitting the weight. The RK900 took another deep inhalation and now he could pick out the faint scent of sweat and cologne mixed with the leather and it was just so fundamentally Gavin. He closed his eyes.

Nines wasn’t how long they stayed like that— ~~he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end—~~ but eventually, they both pulled back, Gavin sitting back on his heels.

A silence descended. 

Thoughts of the case and the terrorist organization at large elbowed their way back into the RK900’s processors. He sighed.

“I should...I should probably get back out there,” he said quietly. Gavin jerked his head.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “of course.” 

It was a mark of this strange new territory they found themselves in that Gavin didn't immediately demand Nines never speak of the hug or conversation they just had to anyone, ever, on pain of death. Although that could also have been because he knew Nines wouldn't tell anyone even without being asked to.

The RK900 rose to his feet and the sound of running water and shuffling materials filled the space as Nines washed the thirium off his hands and Gavin cleaned up the evidence of their impromptu operation. Suddenly a thought occurred to the RK900.

"Oh, sh—" the android turned back around to Gavin. "Your jacket, I'm so sorry." There were undoubtedly smeared thirium stains from where he'd reciprocated the embrace. Gavin just waved him off.

"It'll evaporate in a few hours," he dismissed, peeling off said jacket and stuffing it in the bag with everything else. He stood up so that they were closer to eye to eye again.

“Just...promise me you won’t pull any more crazy stunts like this? That you won’t let it get this far again?” 

Nines' mouth flattened into a straight line as he looked into turbulent grey eyes. He gave a small nod.

“I promise.” And the crazy thing was that he actually meant it. 

He’d had no idea his actions had had such a huge impact on Gavin, but after that—discussion? Shouting lecture? Aggressively affectionate rant?—he was convinced of one thing, at least. He never wanted to put Gavin in the position that he had today. His partner—his _friend—_ deserved better than that.

And maybe...it was also nice to finally be enough for someone. Maybe it made him think he could be enough for himself, as well.

“Good,” Gavin said forcefully. He inhaled, and a smirk spread across his face, though it was a bit strained around the edges. “That’s good. After all, I can’t have my turtlenecked dumpster of a partner dying on me without my say-so.” 

The RK900 barked out a laugh, unlocking the door with a click. “Au contraire, my piece of human trash, we are in this together.”

With that, the android left the room and entered the hallway, back into the chaos and the fight and the ongoing struggle that was their lives and the cases that made up their lives. As the door swung shut, however, his advanced audio processors picked up one last parting shot from his friend.

“Yeah,” and Nines could hear the soft smile in Gavin’s voice, “I guess we are.”

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! So these chapters will be varying lengths but on the whole pretty short and sweet. It'll mainly show how Gavin and Nines' relationship changes over time told through the ongoing exchange of coffee. xD


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